September 19, 2001
Dear Everyone:
Well, I think it’s safe to say that last week was one the whole world could have done without. Certainly, I could have. I was in downtown “Hobby” when the terrorists made their attacks on New York and Washington. It was to have been a two-day meeting and training session on the new software that we’re learning. That changed shortly before 8:00 a.m. Central Time.
We found out about the attacks almost immediately because the floor where we were to do training has a television in the break area. That area was jammed with people in no time. Some of us tried to use the Internet to get information, but many of the most common sites were overwhelmed in the early hours. Then, around 9:30, they ordered the building evacuated.
So I went back to my room at the Four Seasons and watched it on TV. I also called the emergency phone number for the company travel agency. After about 20 minutes on hold, I finally connected with a woman named “Erica”. We agreed that I wouldn’t be flying home as originally scheduled on Wednesday. She got me onto a flight late Thursday night. She also got me a reservation at another hotel for Wednesday night since the Four Seasons was booked and could only offer to place me on a waiting list.
By the time I’d finished with “Erica”, it was way past lunch time and I set out to find something to eat. The mall next door was closed, so I returned to my room. Just as I was opening the door to the room, my back went into a massive spasm, resulting in a sprained muscle in my left back. Wonderful. I did finally get some lunch at the hotel dining room. I also called “Jeannie” to let her know that I was all right (more or less).
I really did appreciate the fact that I was considerably luckier than many people. I was alive and hadn’t lost any close family or friends. I wasn’t sleeping on a Red Cross cot after having my flight diverted to some strange city. I even had a mini-bar in my room. And I was on an expense account.
Nevertheless, Tuesday night I went to bed with an aching back. Wednesday morning, I woke up with an aching back… and a cold. Know what happens when you sneeze with a sprained back? It really hurts.
Wednesday, I packed my luggage and dragged it through the mall to Company Tower, which is where we had been meeting. We spent most of Wednesday trying to figure out how we were going to hold training sessions the following week (in “Hobby”), when we still didn’t have access to the right data, didn’t have any training materials put together, and didn’t know who would be willing to fly to “Hobby” again so soon.
One advantage to being in Company Tower is that I could log onto a computer and access my email and the Internet. I sent my boss an email to let him know when I expected to be back. I could even get to AOL over the Internet and check my personal email. That’s how I was able to send a message to those who get The Weekly Letter electronically that there wasn’t going to be a Weekly Letter that week.
At the end of the day, I took a cab to the new hotel. This is when I learned that the cab drivers were already feeling hurt by the attack. No trips out to the airport (all airports closed on Wednesday). No trips to sporting events or concerts. Just the occasional short trip like mine from one hotel to another.
Wednesday night, I got careless near the TV-cabinet-dresser-combination. I was absentmindedly getting something out of the drawer and smacked my forehead on the edge of the TV shelf. So now I had an aching back, a cold and a divot in my forehead. Lying on the bed with a bloody washcloth pressed by my forehead, I thought, “What else could possibly go wrong on this trip!”
Thursday morning, Continental announced that they had canceled all flights for that day. I had to wait until 7:30 to place a frantic phone call to “Erica”. She confirmed the canceled flight and got me “the last seat” on a flight going out Saturday night at 8:00. She also got me booked back into the Four Seasons.
Checked out of the other hotel, before they could see what a mess I’d made of their washcloths. Took another cab to Company Tower. Where, this time, there was a uniformed guard outside who politely requested that I let him search my bags before allowing me inside the building.
Once inside, I checked in with Security to trade my regular badge for a special visitor’s badge that would allow me access to the Company floors (Company only occupies about 10 floors out of 51). The guard told me that “they’re all coming back”, meaning all the Company people who, like me, were stranded away from their regular offices were coming into the Tower. It made sense to me. It was a way of keeping in touch with coworkers and the world in general. New email to the boss about change in travel plans.
By this time, the project leader had decided to call off the scheduled training the following week. So I wouldn’t have to fly home on Saturday, only to fly back again on Monday. This got my enthusiastic vote. (I immediately called “Erica” and told her, “This time it’s good news” and had her cancel the next trip. By now, I had the phone number memorized.)
In the meantime, my back still hurt, I still had a cold and I still had a divot in my forehead. There’s a very small “drug store” in the mall where I was able to find some cough syrup. I figured I could stand it for another day and a half.
I also called our hairdresser to cancel my part of our joint appointment Saturday, since I wouldn’t get back until very late. Since I wouldn’t be flying back to “Hobby” the following week, I rescheduled a sorely needed haircut for Monday. And I changed the return shuttle trip from the hotel to the airport for Saturday afternoon. I planned to get there in plenty of time. I didn’t mind hanging around the airport for hours as long as I had the boarding pass in my hot little hand.
Did I mention the mall included a bookstore? I got several books to tide me over. (These did not go on the expense account.) I spent most of Friday just hanging around the office. Then I realized that there were several items in my purse that probably wouldn’t go over too well with airport security. The Swiss Army Knife came to mind immediately. Ditto some nail clippers, a file and a tiny screwdriver for fixing eyeglasses. I put these, plus some files and things I didn’t need with me, in an interdepartmental envelope and mailed them back to myself in the office mail.
On Saturday, I was all set, bags packed and ready to go, when I took the precaution of calling the airline. They had cancelled my flight. The soonest I could get back to California was Monday morning. No point in calling “Erica” now. That number was only good Monday through Friday. The airline scheduled me on the Monday flight.
I went down to the lobby and threw myself on the mercy of the Four Seasons Hotel. Could I stay two more nights? By now, they had plenty of room and said I could stay in the same room I was already in. This is also when I discovered that The Concierge is Your Friend. I had packed for a four-day trip and was now running out of things I couldn’t necessarily get at the little drug store in the mall.
The Nice Concierge assigned me a driver who took me to a large store where I could stock up on things. I even bought a 2-liter bottle of Diet Coke for less than what a 10-ounce size would cost from the mini-bar. I called “Jeannie” and the boss to say I wasn’t going to be coming home Saturday after all. And changed the shuttle reservation.
I kept reminding myself that there were many people in far worse straits than I was. As I told the driver, “If you have to be stuck somewhere, there’s no better place than the Four Seasons. But stuck is stuck!” I’d been wearing the same shirt for three days now and decided to use the hotel laundry as well.
Sunday evening, I called the airline to check. Almost hourly. Monday’s flight was still scheduled to go. Monday morning, 3:30, I called again. Flight was still on. 5:30 Monday morning. Still on.
Nevertheless, I waited until I was strapped into my seat before using the cell phone to call my boss and tell him it looked like I might actually get back. I called “Jeannie” from the Oakland airport when we landed. Once I had my luggage, it was a snap to haul it the three miles or so to long-term parking. The bill: $127. But when the attendant realized that I had “pulled in prior to September 11”, he said there was no charge.
I got into the office a mere 9 days after I left, wearing exactly the same clothes as when I flew to “Hobby”. The boss said to take Tuesday as a “Comp Day”. I went home, took something for the cough, crawled into my own little bed. And slept for 14 hours.
I feel better now. My back is getting better, the cold is slowly letting go, and the divot in my forehead is healing nicely. I even have a new appointment to get my hair cut (and colored).
And while my heart goes out to those who have lost so much, I’m glad my little part of this whole thing is over now. No jokes this week.
Love, as always,
Pete
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